Black Blood
by Catlethea
Summary: Regulus sees something he shouldn't, and things get seriously out of hand. Can Sirius keep his younger brother from succumbing to the darkness inside him? WARNINGS: slash, incest, rape, abuse, major character death  title subject to change!


**Author's Note: Okay, I messed with the timeline a bit to make sure this would work. Regulus is sixteen and Sirius is seventeen, but still living at home. Regulus has not joined the Death Eaters yet. Do forgive my taking liberties, but I wasn't sure how else I could do this with how the story came out.**

**Also, I'm not sure about this title. This story is going to get a lot darker from here, and I can't think of a title that fits just right. Any suggestions will be welcome. Next chapter should be up soon, but no promises.**

Regulus hadn't meant to look into his brother's room. He had only meant to ask Sirius if he had stolen Regulus's Charms textbook and peered inside to make sure his brother was actually there. It was something he preferred to avoid, given the condition his older brother usually left his space in; summer homework strewn all over the floor, pictures of Muggle girls naked on his walls, the positively ENDLESS motorcycle magazines. . . In other words, it was the essence of chaos, a black hole of all the things their parents had taught the brothers to ignore. They were supposed to be ABOVE this, yet Sirius-for reasons unfathomable to his younger brother-chose to embrace it whole-heartedly. Merlin, would Regulus EVER begin to comprehend his brother's madness?

Another thing Regulus had not meant to do, on top of looking into Sirius's room, was to look in while his brother was masturbating. Bloody hell, there was a sight he could have gone his entire life without; Sirius splayed out on his bed, completely naked, slowly fisting his huge, flushed erection.

Regulus swallowed, meaning to step away from the partially open door-Sirius had foolishly left it ajar-and rub his eyes as hard as he could in hopes of dispelling the image. But his feet had other ideas; namely, remaining glued to the floor. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Regulus was fascinated, in a convoluted, disgusting way that gave his stomach a churn; his Slytherin mind was immediately on its way to formulating some horrific form of blackmail and humiliation. This was something he could use.

So Regulus stayed where he was, trying to figure out what Sirius was getting off to, filing away the strange squeaks and moans-which Sirius so shamelessly unleashed-for later use with great relish. Sirius would come to regret this orgasm one day, without the slightest shadow of doubt. Of that much, Regulus was certain.

And then he noticed something. Instead of simply wanking himself to release as quickly as possible, Sirius was taking his time, teasing almost, and truly getting the most out of it. It must feel good, Regulus thought as Sirius twisted his own nipples and groaned, animalistic. He sounded as if he were in sexual nirvana, if such a thing were possible. The way he thrusted up into one hand with abandon while he caressed his body with the other, the pants and grunts that spewed forth as he writhed on his sheets.

Frozen, Regulus simply watched, feeling sickeningly voyeuristic as his elder brother bucked his hips upward one last time and let his seed spill across his stomach, hand, and bedcovers. And, as if that weren't disturbing enough, somewhere in the long stream of sound that came with Sirius's messy climax was Regulus's name. Not his full name, only Sirius's favored diminutive for picking on the younger boy-Reg-but it wasn't as if Sirius knew someone ELSE who could be called Reg. Regulus's heart began to thud ominously against its cage of flesh and marrow; what the hell was going on?

Before Sirius, who had collapsed in a sticky mess of heavy breathing and rolling eyes only moments before, could recover and spot his favorite home tormentee in the doorway, Regulus was gone, running silently down the hall to his own room and shutting the door. Only once he heard the lock slide home did he let himself speak: "Fuck."

Had Sirius ANY idea what he was thinking, in that mad brain of his? What saying Regulus's name at a time like that, in that particular way, would mean? Was he completely out of his mind? The Black family had been committing incest for generation upon generation, centuries almost, Regulus admitted, but only to keep pure blood in the family. And never, in all of history, had a brother of the House of Black committed incest with the other.

Even to Regulus, who had stood for countless flaws in Sirius's ways until now, could not stand this one, fatal imperfection; there was no way Regulus would allow his brother to be in any way attracted to him. It would not stand, not in this place and time, nor any other.

Regulus harshly sent his head back against his closed door, causing a starburst of pain; he welcomed it. Anything to drive out this taint, this sickness, this MONSTROSITY in his mind. It took him several long moments to recover his composure and decide to move on to Potions homework, but when he did, he was brought up short.

No.

There was no way, in heaven, hell, or anything else, that he had an erection. He could not have been turned on by his brother; he wasn't like Sirius, he wasn't unnatural. It must have been something else. Anything else, he pleaded. Please, God, Jesus, Merlin, anybody, let it be something else.

His angry tears mingled with nervous, cold sweat as he begged his ceiling for something else, but to no avail; he could not simply pray his erection away, it seemed. Regulus swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, until it gave him a small headache, but when he opened them again the bulge in his pants was still there.

There was no other choice, he finally conceded, and reached into his boxers. The first stroke of fingers on his aching flesh sent shivers down his legs, and his breath got lost somewhere between his lungs and his mouth; he quickly loosened his belt and let his drawers hit the floor. Flushing in rememberance of his brother's ecstacy, he decided perhaps he should see if it felt as good as it had appeared to feel; if he just pretended he had never seen the end, he could believe he was simply mimicking something pleasurable, like a sex trick learned from the older boys at Hogwarts. Hands shaking, he left his penis to quiver in the open air and stripped out of his jacket and shirt, then carefully crawled onto his bed. Again, he swallowed, then took hold of his throbbing hard-on.

The slow rubs were maddening, and Regulus had to hold himself back to keep from simply pulling hard several times in quick succession and getting it over with. He briefly wondered why, and reminded himself it was all about feeling good, and if he had to deal with this problem, he wanted to make the pleasure last, right? Laying his head back on the pillow, Regulus licked his dry lips and closed his eyes, going by touch. He couldn't believe headstrong, impulsive Sirius had the patience-and the brains-for this. Just a few mere minutes of this had already made Regulus feel like he was about to lose it, and not in climax; he felt like he was going insane, a wild, intense buzzing in his skull, the only things penetrating his bubble of madness his desperate breathing and crashing heartbeat.

His hand glided smoother up and down his length with the addition of his dribbling precome, and soon his hips were snapping up in a frenzy; he could feel that he was close. Without even enough wherewithall to lick his lips, which were so dry he could feel them cracking, Regulus reached down between his legs and cupped his testicles, timing the squeezing of his sac with the grasping of his dick. And then, at long last, he felt it; his orgasm.

"Fuck!" he moaned, very nearly going blind with relief. After so much buildup, finally milking himself dry was like a glass of cool ice water in a parched wasteland. Once he was done and his dick was again limp, he let his limbs go heavy and weak, pleasant tiredness seeping through him like a warm fog.

Only then did the fateful nickname slip from his loosened tongue: "Siri."

By the time he recognized what he had breathed, it was already too late. The damage was done; the word was out. He sat up, though his whole body resisted, and dropped his head into his hands. No. No, no, no, no, no! He wasn't like Sirius; he didn't have an orgasm because of his brother; he was not an incestuous prick.

Regulus Arcturus Black was better than this, God dammit! He had something going for him, a prestigious future ahead; all Sirius had was motorcycles and half-blood friends. For Merlin's sake, Sirius was friends with a werewolf! Even though Sirius and his friends thought they were all so clever, referring to Lupin's full moon change as his "furry little problem," Regulus has known all along what was going on when the four snuck out of the castle once a month. He wasn't stupid, like Sirius. He was better than a bunch of Gryffindors, especially one as foolish as his brother. Sirius was an embarrassment, a liability.

So why-oh, why-had he whispered his brother's name?

Again frustrated and dismayed, angered beyond recall or desire, Regulus grabbed his hair in venomous fistfuls, wanting nothing more than to tear it from its roots. Damn Sirius! Damn him to the deepest circle of Hell where he belonged. How could he have done this? Tricked he, Regulus, the smart one, into being an incestuous blockhead! God, if he was well within his rights, Regulus would march right back down the hall as he was now-completely unclothed-and fling an Unforgiveable at Sirius. In fact, he wanted nothing more.

Regulus forced himself to stay calm. He was a Slytherin, the best House in Hogwarts, and he was a Black, the finest bloodline in all of Europe; he would NOT lose his sanity over something so trivial. But he would have his revenge.

And Sirius had better be prepared for it.


End file.
